


An Elegant Arrangement

by 27dragons



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Dom Tony Stark, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Human Furniture, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sub Bucky Barnes, extreme flower arranging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: The thought of providing service in such a quiet, unassuming way was tantalizing. It quieted something in his brain, knowing he wouldn’t have to do anything but hold a position. Not that he expected that to be easy, but it was simple.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 26
Kudos: 256
Collections: StarkBucksBingo2020





	An Elegant Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> This fic fills the following bingo squares:  
>  MCU Kink Bingo: B1 - Human Furniture  
>  Starkbucks Bingo: N5 - AU: Flower Shop
> 
> Full header post will be on my tumblr.

_Come by the shop after work tonight_?

It was followed up by an emoji of a drooping rose. Bucky’s heart started pounding in his chest.

That was the emoji they’d decided would be their signal: Tony was suggesting a scene.

_You bet, babe, see you around 7?_ Bucky followed it up with a water-drop emoji: yes.

It had been a while since they’d done a scene. Bucky wondered what Tony had in mind, and squirmed a little as his dick started thickening up. _Down, boy_ , he admonished it. There were still a few hours before work was done for the day, and he did _not_ need to be showing off a half-chub to all his co-workers. Or his boss.

He wondered what Tony had in mind. The last time they’d done a scene at the shop, Tony had used florist’s tape to tie his wrists to opposite corners of the worktable and then whipped him with a rose stem before crawling under the table to blow him.

Thinking about it made the last hours of work both drag and fly. It seemed like an age before he was finally able to clock out, but then he was staring at the front door of Tony’s flower shop and he couldn’t, if someone had offered cold cash, have recalled anything about the actual trip.

The shopfront was closed and dark -- Tony had been known to keep the doors open for a little past his official closing time of six for the occasional special customer, but by now, he’d be in the back, prepping tomorrow’s deliveries.

Bucky peered through the front door, but everything was dark, except for a couple of display lights showing off dramatic bouquets.

Bucky strolled around the side of the building and made his way to the delivery entrance. That, he found, was still unlocked.

“Babe?” he called. He set the deadbolt on the door once he was inside. Whatever they were going to be up to, they probably didn't want any sorts of visitors. Especially not the sort who’d come through a shop’s back door after hours.

“Up here,” Tony called.

Bucky made his way past the big coolers with the cut flowers and the indoor hot-house with the potted plants and into the little workroom where Tony assembled most of his creations.

Tony was there, sitting on a stool in front of the somewhat battered and scarred worktable, carefully trimming rather a large pile of blossoms. “Oh,” Bucky said. “Did, uh, did you get a last-minute order? You gotta cancel on the fun an’ games?”

Tony shook his head without looking up. “No,” he said in that steady, somewhat deeper than usual voice that Bucky associated with a scene. “You’re going to help me.” He glanced up at Bucky, then, gaze flickering. “Once you’re properly dressed.” He raised one eyebrow at Bucky, a as if to say, _why did you come into my presence dressed like that?_

“Yeah, I’ll just-- Gimme a couple minutes to stash my bag in the office and, uh, change,” Bucky said.

Tony hummed and reached for a pair of shears. “Don’t dawdle.”

Bucky all but bolted for the office -- if the workroom was cozy, the office was downright claustrophobic, barely big enough for a chair and a desk. He put his work bag on the chair and kicked off his shoes even as he was pulling his shirt off over his head. Shirt, pants, underwear, socks got draped over the back of the chair, and then he pinned his hair up into a sloppy sort of bun.

He took a couple of breaths, steadying himself -- starting a scene was always a little uncertain and jittery -- and padded back out on bare feet. “Sir.”

Tony looked at him then, and this time there was some heat to it as he gave Bucky a slow, appreciative appraisal. Bucky’s dick was already mostly hard, but it gave an eager little bob when Tony looked at it. _Show-off_ , Bucky accused it. It didn’t deny the charge.

“Much better,” Tony approved.

They’d only barely begun; the praise made Bucky feel squirmy rather than warm. “So what, uh. What’ve you got planned?” Bucky asked.

“Come stand over here, where the light is better,” Tony said, pointing.

Bucky obeyed, and Tony’s hands on his shoulders turned Bucky to exactly the position Tony wanted. “I do have one bouquet I want to make,” Tony said. “So you’re going to stand right here and be my vase.”

A bright, shimmering shudder scrawled its way over Bucky’s skin.

_Human furniture_ had been on Bucky’s “want to try” list when they’d been considering scenes. The thought of providing service in such a quiet, unassuming way was tantalizing. It quieted something in his brain, knowing he wouldn’t have to do anything but hold a position. Not that he expected that to be _easy_ , but it was _simple_. But he’d pictured serving as a footstool, perhaps, or a table.

Tony was watching him, waiting for his answer. Bucky nodded.

“Good.” Tony lifted Bucky’s arms, curling them into a loose circle, one arm just a bit lower than chest height, and the other somewhat lower. He stepped back, eyeing the position, and stepped back in, making minute adjustments, and then nodded. “Good. Hold that for me.”

Bucky didn’t answer. Vases didn’t talk.

Tony brought over a high stool and placed it just under the circle of Bucky’s arms, and dropped a thick block of floral foam on it.

Then he picked up a long-stemmed sunflower, bigger around than the span of Bucky’s hand, and placed it between Bucky’s arms, pushing the stem lightly into the foam. When he released it, the flower tipped, leaning against the curve of Bucky’s arm. The stem was slightly scratchy against the sensitive skin.

Bucky had to fight against an urge to release his position and rub at it.

Tony considered the sunflower for a minute, then pulled two more of them out of a bucket and trimmed them. He placed them carefully, then stepped back to consider them. Pulled one out and trimmed it again. This time, he nodded at the effect and went to the cooler.

The brush of the sunflower stems was maddening, somewhere between a tickle and a scratch. Bucky fidgeted slightly, trying to make one of them fall out of the crook of his elbow.

Tony glanced over and frowned. He came back and repositioned the flower, then caught Bucky’s chin in a firm grip, forcing Bucky to meet his gaze. “No moving,” he said sternly. “Can you do that?”

“Yes sir,” Bucky said meekly. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Tony hummed and released him, then checked the flowers again before returning to the cooler. Bucky took a deep breath and fixed his eyes on a spot on the wall, and tried to push everything else out of his thoughts.

Tony came back with an armful of gladiolus in hot-rod red. He placed those carefully around the sunflowers. One of the long stems was just to the side of Bucky’s face, brushing his cheek when Tony jostled it.

Bucky stared harder at his spot.

“Good boy,” Tony murmured, patting him lightly on the cheek before going back to the cooler, this time for a handful of stems dripping snow-white hydrangea puffballs.

It took a little longer, but finally, everything faded into a background hum, present but ignorable -- the scratchy/tickly feel of the flowers in his arms, the sweet smell of them, the warm brush of Tony’s fingers as he placed the stems and arranged the filler and greenery.

His dick, too, became of secondary importance. His erection swelled and then waned. This wasn’t that kind of scene. And then it swelled again, because this was for Tony.

Time stretched like taffy, and even though Bucky’s arms were beginning to ache a little, he felt the rest of his muscles relaxing, going soft.

Tony stepped back, eyeing the arrangement critically. “Beautiful,” he murmured. He brought up his phone and took a picture, then took several more from varying angles.

He stuffed it into his pocket and came back over to Bucky, smoothing his hands down Bucky’s arms. “Can you hold it a little longer?” he murmured.

Bucky squeezed the muscles of his arms and relaxed again, shifted his shoulders a little, which didn’t do much to ease the ache in them. “A little,” he said.

“Thank you,” Tony said sincerely. He leaned in to kiss Bucky’s cheek. “You’re being so good for me.” He stepped behind Bucky, letting his fingers trail down Bucky’s back, cupping the curve of Bucky’s ass.

Tony kissed the curve of Bucky’s shoulder, pressing up against Bucky’s back, and his hand stole around to lightly cup Bucky’s cock. Bucky sucked in a breath and Tony squeezed a little, not quite to the point of pain. “Don’t move,” he said firmly, a note of command to his voice that made Bucky shiver.

Bucky had to close his eyes as Tony began to move, stroking him languorously.

“You can come,” Tony told him, punctuating it with a twist of the wrist. “Just _don’t move_.”

Oh, god, Bucky wasn’t sure he _could_ hold still for this. He bit his lip and tried to focus on counting his breaths, letting the agonizing pleasure fade into the background, but it was so, so hard. He wanted to rock into Tony’s touch, to fall to his knees and press his face into Tony’s crotch.

Each breath was harsh and desperate. The heated pleasure of each stroke was accompanied by a counterpoint of aching in his shoulders, trembling in his arms and legs, the feathery feel of flower petals and leaves as they vibrated against his skin.

It built, a crescendo of sensation, the desperate need to move and his utter determination to stay still that had him vibrating in place, his whole body shuddering.

When his climax ripped through him, he screamed.

“Beautiful, so beautiful, so perfect,” Tony murmured as the rushing in Bucky’s ears faded, and Tony’s hands were on Bucky then, gently easing him back to sit on a stool, lifting away the flowers and lowering his arms. Bucky’s eyes were closed, his head hanging low as he panted for breath, and Tony was petting him, wiping him down, massaging his aching muscles.

Tony pressed a bottle of water into his hands and he took small sips while Tony bustled around, cleaning up and putting everything away.

“You feeling okay, sweetheart?” Tony asked a few minutes later, stopping in front of Bucky to brush knuckles down his cheek.

Bucky nodded. “Feel good,” he mumbled. “Was it-- Did I do good? Was it what you wanted?”

“Oh, honey, you were _perfect._ Here--” Tony fished out his phone and pulled up the pictures for Bucky to see. “Look how beautiful you are. It’s _exactly_ what I wanted.”

Bucky didn’t know if he was _beautiful_ , exactly, but he had to admit there was something compelling about the graceful pose, the riot of color in his arms, the faraway look in his eyes. He looked for a minute, then handed the phone back. “I liked it,” he said, flushing a little. “Took a little to settle in, but. It was good.”

“Yeah? Maybe we’ll try it again sometime,” Tony said. “I liked it, too. Very much.” He leaned in to claim a kiss, soft and sweet. “Want to stop for dinner on our way home?”

Bucky considered it. “Italian?” Their favorite Italian place kept a flower arrangement at the hostess station that Tony refreshed every week.

“Sounds great. And then when we get home,” Tony whispered against Bucky’s ear, “we’ll have some more fun.”


End file.
